


Dance

by GirlDressedInBlack



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Selfcest, that selfcest fic no one asked for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-16 00:52:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11242881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GirlDressedInBlack/pseuds/GirlDressedInBlack
Summary: And suddenly he is there, shining amid the smoke like a terrible star and everything slots back into place.





	Dance

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sorry because these guys are adorable in that one gif of them dancing.
> 
> And oh dear- more crying Missy.

The Mistress stares, disbelieving, at the man in front of her. Time Lord. To be exact. To be even more exact her own previous regeneration. 

The man smirks and Missy does too, feeling the expression slip on to her face with ease.

"Trying to be good are we?" He calls out across the room, paying as little heed to the chaos as she is. She frowns.

"Well, yes. I am. I don't think I'm doing a very god job of it though." The Time Lady admits, looking away. She had promised the Doctor that she would try her best and here she is, the ship just barely having escaped, his companions- oh wait, no-  _friends_ having run off back to him already and face to face with herself (in a way).

There's a clang as the man kicks something out of the way, stepping towards her.

"Oh- we've never been very good at that." He says, shrugging, "Why bother?" The Master asks, stopping after only one step, hands in his pockets. Missy feels something slide down her cheek and brings a hand up. She looks at the droplet on her nail in annoyance, flicking it away. She sniffs.

"Don't know why I keep doing that." She mutters shortly, eyes averted to where the floor should be but there's only smoke now. The Master chuckles.

"You aren't meant to be good. That's why. You  _can't_ be good- the emotions aren't wired right in us." He says, confusion taking over his expression even as he speaks.

"And yet somehow..." He murmurs, another step closer, "You're grieving?" His voice is a mere breath but she hears it. The Mistress nods, wiping her eyes.

"So it appears." She agrees. 

"You actually feel  _bad_ for the things we've done?" He asks, lips curling in mild disgust. She shifts a little. curling one hand around the other.

"Yes. I do." She says softly. The Master sighs, running a hand through his hair. He looks up at her, unsure what to do.

"And you- do you _want_ to feel bad about it?" He asks. The Mistress opens her mouth to speak but the Time Lord interrupts, "I mean- honestly. I know we want to be with the Doctor and that giving in is probably helping that but do you  _really_ want to hurt just to make him happy?" He asks again. 

The Time Lady stares at him, lips parted and eyes desperate. She doubles over a moment later, hands clutching at her face as she cries.

"I don't- I don't!" She calls out, "I don't want to hurt anymore!" The Master watches her break down, face betraying nothing.

"I love him but it hurts so much." She continues, voice low, "Every memory burns and I  _can't_ fight it!" The Mistress sobs. Her gaze flashes up to the Time Lord who says nothing. Her face crumples.

"Please help me." She whispers, swallowing, " _Please_." Desperately, knowing he'll forget anyway, she shoves the decades of memories at him. They are both silent for seconds, gazes caught. If the Time Lady didn't remember being him she wouldn't have known the despair he feels right now, locked tightly behind his facade. 

"I'll help you." He says, voice betraying his emotions, "I'll make him hurt like he has hurt us." He says, sniffing and wiping a hand over his face. The six months of isolation echo back across their shared mind.

"You do." She sobs, "I know I do. It just hurts now." She says, voice trembling. He smiles, a strange thing which is somehow comforting.

"Give us a kiss." He whispers and the Mistress runs the distance to him, uncaring about the debris which gets in her way.

He wraps his arms around her, noticing how small he will become. They look at each other briefly as she winds her arms around his neck, both of them breathing softly.

Gently he leans forwards, pressing their lips together. She leans into him, parting her lips and gasping softly. He takes what she offers, holding her tightly, a hand cupping the back of her head.

They part eventually, breathing lightly the air between them.

The Mistress smiles, a slightly painful but hopeful thing and the Master can't help but reflect it, sniffing himself.

He takes her hand, spinning her out from himself and back and she laughs, moving fluidly with him.

That sound is so beautiful he takes her in his arms again and presses another sweet kiss to her lips.


End file.
